[A WHILE AGO, FELLOW TABARD INN-ER JESSE RUSSELL AND I PLANNED ON STARTING A TWO-MAN BAND WHICH WOULD PERFORM ONLY DRINKING SONGS. SADLY, WE NEVER GOT AROUND TO ACHIEVING THIS BECAUSE OF CONFLICTING SCHEDULES AND LACK OF TIME. I WROTE SOME LYRICS, BUT WE COULD NEVER MAKE THE TIME TO PUT MUSIC TO THEM. I THINK I'M GOING TO START POSTING THEM HERE, SO THEY DON'T GO TO WASTE. THIS ONE ISN'T SO MUCH OF A DRINKING SONG, BUT IT COULD EASILY BECOME ONE, AS YOU'LL BE ABLE TO SEE BELOW.]
At age fifty-four, Finnegan was no lad
Gray, puffy, and balding, but still he had
Enough lead in his pencil to write a book
Or at least a short story, by hook or crook.
But some days are limp
He’s feeling less pimp
He hates being such a gimp.
For such days he keeps on hand
A little bottle of blue pills and
The phone number of a good whore
Who always leaves him begging for more.
He gives her a call
He’s excited to ball
He’s ready to give it his all.
Finnegan! It’s your final day on earth!
Give this man a very wide berth!
Does he have bad or good luck?
Who knows? It’s time for Finnegan’s fuck!
He pops a blue pill in his mouth
And feels a tingling down south
But it’s going too slow
Can’t go with the flow
He takes two more
And sits at the door
Waiting for his favorite whore.
Finnegan! It’s your final day on earth!
Give this man a very wide berth!
Does he have bad or good luck?
Who knows? It’s time for Finnegan’s fuck!
Finnegan tears her clothes asunder
And plugs her up with a cock of thunder
He rides her with ferocity
And moves with such velocity
His heart rate soars
He’s on all fours
Wishing he had more whores.
His groin is scorched and his heart is numb
It spreads to his left arm and he knows how dumb
He was to take so many pills
But it was worth the thrills
If he could cum
Before his bum
Ticker could turn to chewing gum.
Finnegan! It’s your final day on earth!
Give this man a very wide berth!
Does he have bad or good luck?
Who knows? It’s time for Finnegan’s fuck!
His heart has stopped in his chest
And he squeezes her left breast
One last time before he’s through
At least he’s able to squirt his goo
At the last
He stops moving fast
And even in death he’s at half-mast.
Finnegan! It’s your final day on earth!
Give this man a very wide berth!
Done in by his naughty trouser snake.
And now it’s time for Finnegan’s wake!
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The problem with this song being performed by a two-man band is that it clearly needs guitar, drums and fiddle.
ReplyDeleteUnless you can drum and fiddle at the same time.
I'll just drum with my hands and fiddle with my feet.
ReplyDelete